Life had become a major bore,

A stream of meaningless acts,

Nothing excited us any more,

Christmas might alter the facts.

Rush about, bustle and buy,

One more gift to make my own,

When a dirty urchin child I spy,

“Mister, can you give me a loan?

“I wouldn’t need very much tonight,

If you can spare a little, even a bit,

I‘d go away out of sight,

I’d go around the corner and sit.”

I didn’t want eye contact,

I turned away and gruffly said,

“No time now, none, in fact.

Go there and get some bread.”

I pointed to the crowd flow,

And quickly walked away,

Heard his voice fading low,

“Thanks, I’ll try like you say.”

I walked and my spirit fell,

I’d shown so little grace.

The tinkle of a silver bell

Framed that grimy little face.

I turned, hurried without joy,

Looking — but luck was gone,

I started to run, “Little boy!”

And then it began to dawn.

“Around the corner” he’d said,

And sure enough, it was grim,

On a store bench, near dead,

A newspaper covered him.

I gathered him in my arms,

“Little boy, are you okay?”

His pale look set off alarms,

His dirty face was ash-gray.

I hugged him to my chest,

Covered him with my coat,

A chill stole through my vest,

Of his coolness I took note.

“Thanks, Mister. I’m so cold.”

“I know. Let’s get some soup.”

Hand in hand we strolled

To the diner near the Loop.

He gulped at the hot broth,

His hunger a bad sign.

His name was Bill Roth,

“Billie” would be just fine. 

“Thanks for the warm break,

And I thank you for the food.

These few crackers I’ll take,

If you wouldn’t think me rude.

“My sister needs me now,

I’ve been away for too long.”

Wrinkling his smudged brow,

“She’s asleep and not so strong.”

 “I’ll get some sugar cakes,”

I said, “We’ll take her a treat

For later, when she wakes.”

He led off, down the street.

And as we walked in the wind,

He explained his Mom and Dad —

Gone. And trail of fosters, at end

They’d beat him and Susie bad.

Took a blanket and off they ran,

Hid in an empty old store,

He had to think of a plan,

‘Til then, just beg some more.

We found little Susie cold,

Alive with hunger gnawing.

Her eyes seemed so old,

Face, a tear-stained drawing.

 “Okay, now you’ve seen my sister,”

Billie said, as she sighed and ate,

“What do they call you, Mister?

 Please, Sir, you’ve been great.”

 “Well, Jen, my wife, may hurl a curse,

But she’ll come around very soon,  

Your current fosters, ‘devil’ — or worse,

Your case worker, ‘crazy loon,’

And where I work, at the county seat,

At the Domestic Relations court,

It’s ‘Your Honor’ they mostly repeat,

As they try to weasel on child support.

For you and Susie, ‘Dad’ sounds right,

For that’s exactly what I’ll be,

I found the best present tonight,

A family for you, Susie, Jen and me.

“Merry Christmas, Billie and Sue,

I’m so glad we met tonight,

You’ll go with me, you two,

Be warm and eat right.”

I nestled Susie’s face on my chest,

Took Billie’s grime smeared hand,

At last I was truly blessed

As if Christmas had been planned. 

© 2008 R. Leland Waldrip